


i'm open, you're closed (where i follow, you'll go)

by fortunatedaughter



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 13:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8287399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunatedaughter/pseuds/fortunatedaughter
Summary: The thing is — she tries not to be so insecure about the whole thing. It’s exhausting to be insecure after a certain point and well; Ginny spent about half of her childhood insecure because she liked sports and not make-up so being insecure when she’s an adult?Not really she’s something she’s exactly enjoying experiencing.And she doesn’t mean to be insecure,  — it just sort of happens.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **PROMPT FROM AN AO3 READER:** Could you please write a oneshot involving Ginny being insecure about her relationship with Mike (maybe something to do with his ex wife?) and/or Mike thinking Ginny could do better than him? With a happy ending please haha. If you could, that would be amazing!

The thing is — she tries not to be so insecure about the whole thing. It’s exhausting to be insecure after a certain point and well; Ginny spent about half of her childhood insecure because she liked sports and not make-up so being insecure when she’s an adult?

Not really she’s something she’s exactly enjoying experiencing.

And she doesn’t mean to be insecure,  — it just sort of _happens_.

* * *

Ginny knows only bits and peices about the history between Mike and his ex-wife. She knows that Rachel cheated on him for four months before she finally told him.

(”Wasn’t even the _guilt_ apparently — just wanted to be with him in public.”)

So when she finds Rachel cornering Mike outside the clubhouse one morning, it’s safe to say Ginny’s mostly good mood is shot to hell in three seconds flat. “This area is for players only.” She drawls, approaching the two of them as they lurk outside the clubhouse.

Rachel’s head snaps in Ginny’s direction, hair flying wildly. “Ginny.” A pretty smile flashes on her face but Ginny doesn’t return it. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah. Almost was able to erase the memory of you using my gender to manipulate an abhorrent situation, but seems I’m not that lucky.” It’s not that she doesn’t like the strawberry blonde reporter, except, well — it’s just that. It’s hard to respect someone who manipulates horrifying situations to prove a point and win political ground. It’s hard to trust Rachel’s integrity as a reporter, knowing she does that and knowing she’s cheated in her past relationships.

“You came around in the end.” Rachel allows.

Ginny raises an eyebrow. “Not because of anything you did.”

Ginny’s always been good at reading people. It was a habit she picked up pretty damn quickly when her Dad would go ape-shit because she cut practice early to go hang out with friends (when she still had them). Reading emotions, reading faces, it became a damn life saver to predict what her father’s moods would be any given afternoon.

And Rachel in that moment? Floundering. Ginny’d almost find it _amusing_ , if the stormy scowl on Mike’s face wasn’t tampering her mood. (He knows what she’s doing. The fucker knows her better than anyone else and he doesn’t need anymore drama with his ex-wife and new girlfriend.)

“Anyway.” Rachel smiles, but the action is brittle and bitter. “We’re having a private conversation here so if you could leave us now.”

Her gaze shifts to Mike, lips pursed in a silent question. He subtly quirks his head, a sign that it’s possibly best she leave. Ginny’s chin raises slightly and the urge to fight back against his call crashes through her.

(She’s his girlfriend. Not Rachel. And yet somehow, she’s not trusted enough to stick around for whatever fuckery the strawberry blonde reporter is going to drop on him?) Instead, Ginny merely nods subtly for Mike, not giving away any of this and side-steps around Rachel. As she turns to glance over her shoulder, the sight of Rachel’s hand on Mike’s arm leaves a sickening feeling in her stomach.)

* * *

Her therapist tells her that she uses humor and sarcasm to cover up her traumas, so she doesn’t have to deal with the fallout of what’s happened. That it’ll take years of extensive therapy and discussion to recover from all of it, from the damage she’s already put herself through, and all of that isn’t helped by the abandonment issues. That that’s why she struggles with opening up, because opening up means she’s vulnerable to hurt and well — there’s only so much hurt one person can take.

“You have to let someone in at some point, Ginny. You need to talk about this. You’re under mass amounts of pressure, you’re in a relationship with a man who has his own emotional baggage on top of your own. Not to mention I don’t think you ever truly recovered from learning about your mother’s affair, then your father’s death… You can’t continue on like this. **Something** has to give.”

* * *

Being with Trevor was easier, Ginny muses, watching from down the corridor as Mike and Rachel have a hushed but feverish fight. But Trevor… Trevor wasn’t love. Mike is — she loves him. And loving him is chaotic, loving him means she looses that precious control she holds so dear, it means she stops thinking clearly and looses perceptive.

It means for the first time in her life she has to be truly vulnerable with someone, unlike she’s ever been ever. She can’t protect herself. That’s what scares her the most — Mike leaving just might be the one thing that kills her. The one thing that might floor her enough to the point where she can’t get back up again.

Ginny turns and leaves, silent as when she first spotted him and heads home. When he calls an hour later, leaving a voicemail message about her coming over, she doesn’t respond. She turns her phone off and looks out the window of her apartment for the whole night.

(She’s past the point of no return when it comes to her feelings for him.)

* * *

Three days later, she sits on his couch, idly pushing the takeout of Chinese food around in her carton. The words of her therapist play through her head — you have to let someone in, you have to talk about this, something has to give, — loudly on a loop.

She glances at Mike out of the corner of his. (She wants to let him in, but the feelings of near consuming desolation stop her. Trevor hurt her. Trevor let her down. _But Mike never did_ , a voice whispers inside of her, _even when Mike didn’t owe you anything, he never let you down._ ) Her heart beats a rapid tattoo against her ribcage and Ginny swallows roughly. “You know I love you, right?” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Mike frown, turning to face her on the couch. Ginny doesn’t move, merely staring out in front of her.

“I’m just — really bad at this.” She waves a hand out in front of her, a vague gesture at this thing between them. A soft, bitter laugh bubbles up her throat and it nearly chokes her words. But she forces them out — because this is Mike and she can do this for him. “I don’t know how to be with someone you know, normal, let alone a guy who’s 13 years older than me and has his ex-wife lurking around where I work.”

Mike inhales sharply and Ginny exhales roughly. “But — I want this to work. I want us to last. I’m gonna try. I’m gonna fail a couple hundred times and you’re probably gonna think about hiring a hitman to kill me because I’m gonna drive you nuts, but.” She hears him laugh and the sound is enough to force her gaze to look at him. The love and acceptance and pure adoration in his gaze nearly takes her fucking breath away — and she curses the fact she didn’t see the depth of his feelings for her sooner, that she spent two years pretending that this connection she feels between them is just a really intense friendship.

(Where would they be, if that time hadn’t been wasted?)

She reaches a hand out, intertwining her fingers with Mike’s own and squeezing. “I’m not just gonna walk away because it gets tough.”

He merely looks at her, a look Ginny can’t quite decipher on her face before he shuffles on the couch, his forehead coming to press against her temple. Ginny’s eyes slip closed.

“You know I chose you, right?” He mutters, voice rough with emotion and feelings and God — how could she ever doubt he’d leave her, given what he too has gone through?

“Rachel, she — I can never put into words what she did and how much that hurt me. So don’t ask me to do that. But I’m done with that part of my past.” He pulls back just enough to press a kiss to her temple. “I choose you and  **everything** that comes along with that.” He grins, quick and fast, a huff of a breath blowing out; as if he can’t quite believe he gets to choose her, that she’s _letting_ him choose her. (As if there was ever any choice. It’s been him since that first day on the diamond, it’s been him since that afternoon leaning against packaged peanuts, it’s been him since that phonecall when he was the only one able to cheer her up after that piss poor showing at the All-Stars game however many years ago. It’s always been him.) “You ever need me to remind you of that, all you gotta do is ask.”

**Author's Note:**

> if u can actually believe me i had planned for this to be fluffy but. nope. seems i'm in an angst mood tonight.


End file.
